Chapter 1: The Price of a Contract
Valerie hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But she hadn't expected to hear her name being traded like currency either.
She froze just outside the sitting room, the soft hum of voices carrying through the partially opened doors. Her name was spoken again—sharp, casual, like it didn't belong to a real person.
"She's the perfect candidate," Sophia's voice floated through the air, laced with smug confidence. "Young, pretty, and desperate. Mr. Han will love her."
Valerie's stomach twisted.
Mr. Han? That name rang a bell—he was one of the senior directors at the Albanian Group. The man was at least in his fifties. Married. And known for being... handsy.
She pushed open the door.
Sophia was lounging on the white leather couch like a queen on her throne, scrolling through her phone. She didn't look up.
"Excuse me?" Valerie asked, voice trembling.
Sophia's head tilted, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, good. Saves me the trouble of finding you."
"What are you talking about?" Valerie demanded, stepping further into the room.
"Mr. Han," Sophia said matter-of-factly, crossing her legs. "He's interested in a… companion during this weekend's negotiation. Our company is hanging by a thread. We can't afford to lose the Albanian Group. But he's stalling. Dropping hints. And I figured—you're not doing anything useful with your life anyway."
Valerie stared at her, thunderstruck. "You want me to sleep with him?"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Sophia rolled her eyes. "It's just one night. You'll get over it."
Valerie's hands clenched. "Why not you?"
Sophia laughed, sharp and cold. "Please. I'm not the charity case in this family."
The words hit like a slap. Valerie had always known she was the outsider. After her mother died, her father had married quickly—bringing her into a world of cold marble floors, fake smiles, and a stepmother who looked through her like glass.
But nothing had prepared her for this.
"You're disgusting," Valerie hissed.
A soft clack of heels echoed behind her. Her heart sank.
"What's going on here?" came her stepmother's voice—icy, composed.
"Valerie's being ungrateful," Sophia said sweetly. "She's refusing to help secure the biggest deal this family's ever had."
Valerie turned. "Help? You want me to prostitute myself for a contract!"
"Lower your voice," her stepmother snapped, shutting the door behind her. "Do you want the staff to hear?"
"Let them!" Valerie shouted. "Let the whole damn world hear what you're asking of me!"
"Enough," came a deeper voice.
Her father entered, face grim, expression unreadable. He was already dressed in his evening suit—probably heading to another investor dinner. Another desperate attempt to keep the company afloat.
"You'll do as you're told, Valerie," he said.
She blinked. "You can't be serious."
"We gave you a roof. An education. And this is how you repay us?" his voice was hard. "Do you even understand what this contract means to us?"
"To you," she corrected. "It means everything to you. I was never part of your plans."
Her stepmother scoffed. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic. You've lived here for free since you were a teenager. The least you can do is contribute."
"By being a sex offering?"
"By being useful," Sophia said with a smirk. "For once."
Tears stung Valerie's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of them. Not like this.
"So that's all I am to you?" she whispered. "A body you can trade when the business fails?"
No one answered.
"What if I say no?"
Her father's eyes narrowed. "Then don't come back."
Silence crashed over the room. Cold. Absolute.
Sophia smiled, like she'd already won.
Valerie's throat ached. She couldn't breathe. The walls seemed to close in around her, the expensive furniture pressing in like a prison. Her whole life had been lived beneath this roof—always on the outside. Always in the shadow of Sophia. And now they were offering her up like she meant nothing.
Maybe she did.
She swallowed, forcing steel into her spine.
"Fine," she said. "I'll do it."
Her stepmother relaxed visibly. Her father nodded once, like a transaction had been confirmed.
Sophia looked positively gleeful.
"But," Valerie added, lifting her chin, "I choose the man. Not you. Not Mr. Han. If I'm going to hell, I'll pick my own devil."
Sophia's smile faltered.
Her father raised an eyebrow. "As long as you get the job done."
"Oh," Valerie murmured, turning toward the door, "I will."
But none of them knew what she would do next. Not even Valerie.
She just knew she had to escape. That she couldn't give them what they wanted. Not like this.
She would find her own man. Her own way. Even if it meant walking into the arms of a stranger.
She didn't know that the man she'd meet—by fate, by accident—would be King Albanian himself.
The one man she should've never touched.
And the only man who could change everything.